


Something More Than Smiles Out The Door

by Yuripaws



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward Flirting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Coffee Shops, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Katsuki Yuuri, Pining Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuripaws/pseuds/Yuripaws
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov has about a thousand things to do today, but he forgets every single one of them when he's stopped outside of a small coffee shop.





	Something More Than Smiles Out The Door

**Author's Note:**

> The inevitable coffee shop AU.
> 
> I heard this song and I HAD to!  
> https://youtu.be/sxKsfICyKeU
> 
> This has been sitting in my drafts for a bit so here it finally is~

Viktor Nikiforov has about a thousand things to do today, but he forgets every single one of them the moment he spots him in the doorway. 

He can hear Christophe speaking, his voice small and distant and fading into background noise as he lowers his phone. The bustle of sidewalk traffic fades as well, and suddenly it's just him. Just him and --

"Sir? Um, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to --"

"It's fine," Viktor tries to say, but all he can do is stare. He feels as though he's been stuck here for a century, standing before the storefront of a coffee shop so small that he may have overlooked it entirely among the grander displays of the shops on either side.

But in reality, he'd only been standing for a total of five seconds, having frozen at the sound of his voice. Such a warm voice, and so welcoming. Whoever had stationed him outside had been clever. How could anyone resist that voice, that _face_ , inviting them inside for a cup of the city's best coffee?

Viktor had believed that voice immediately. The finest coffee in the world is made inside this shop, of that he is _mostly_ certain. He can't exactly think straight. Not after having heard that voice. Not after having seen that face.

The man is shrinking back, Viktor finally registers, his round cheeks pink and his dark brown eyes flicking to and from him nervously from behind crooked glasses.

"Sorry for interrupting. Um... have a nice day!"

 _Say something_ , a voice hisses. It's Christophe, Viktor realizes. He hangs up on him.

Viktor straightens and musters up his most charming smile. He hopes it isn't bordering on hysterical, because he can feel his heart racing alarmingly fast.

"It's alright! I, uh, yes -- I'd love to. Try it, I mean. The coffee."

His charm must be set to blinding, _somehow_ , because the man blushes harder and stands aside to let him pass. Viktor tries not to swoon as they nearly brush against each other in the narrow doorway. He has the insane urge to tell him that he smells delicious, like French vanilla and sunshine, but that's probably just the coffee, and it probably also sounds stupid.

It takes him a while to realize that the man hasn't followed him inside. He glances over his shoulder just as a different barista beckons him forward to the counter. 

The man is still at the door. Still calling out to passersby. Viktor feels a ridiculous stab of jealousy. _He's_ here, this shop doesn't need any other customers. He'll buy every bean in this establishment, and everyone else can burn in hell.

"Sir? How can I help you?"

Viktor's attention snaps back to the barista behind the counter. His dark eyes shine startling bright, and his smile is just the slightest bit cheeky. He seems to be looking back and forth between Viktor and his co-worker, and the amusement in his voice puts Viktor on edge.

Viktor tries not to stutter as he orders, because he swears he can feel the other man's eyes on him. The man in the doorway. His name, Viktor realizes. I need to find out his name.

He very casually leans against the wall as he waits for his order, and even more casually glances out the door. He sees the barista outside, standing beside the dusty blackboard and chalking out the names of whatever their newest specials are. He nearly bumps into someone as he stands back to admire his work, but a bumbling apology somehow ends in a brand new customer entering the shop. Very clever, Viktor thinks again, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Yes, this man is either very clever or very lucky. Or both. Either way, he's very  _unfair._

"Viktor?"

He tears his attention from the man outside just a bit too quickly, and the barista sliding him his drink looks twice as amused. Viktor scrambles wildly for a way to ask about the mystery barista. Something. _Anything_.

"The guy outside's doing a great job. You should give him a raise."

The barista, whose name tag reads 'Phichit,' laughs loudly, and, to Viktor's horror, calls out towards the door.

"Hey, Yuuri! You wanna ask Celestino for a raise?"

The man -- _Yuuri_ \-- ducks his head inside long enough to give a wide-eyed shake of his head before returning to the conversation he'd been having with a young couple. Viktor watches them enter eagerly, and the slight look of triumph on Yuuri's face makes Viktor's heart soar. He's too cute. This is ridiculous. Unfair. 

He has to squeeze around another person entering the shop as he leaves, and his eyes catch Yuuri's long enough to earn him a polite smile and a 'have a nice day!'

Viktor answers what's almost his seventh missed call from Christophe and zones out for their entire conversation.

*

Yuuri spends his next shift shooting panicked glances at the door. Yuri spends it shooting annoyed glances at the back of his head.

"The hell you waiting for, the Second Coming to walk in?"

Yes, Yuuri thinks, staring out the window in a daze. He's expecting a God to arrive in a swirling silver mist.

He'd been so incredibly handsome, the stranger Yuuri had so rudely interrupted. The moment he had set eyes on him, he'd wanted to speak to him so badly that he'd stupidly blurted out a greeting before realizing that the man had been speaking on the phone. Time had stood still, and Yuuri had been drowning in the loveliest blue eyes he'd ever seen.

Will he see them today? He glances at the door again, chewing his bottom lip nervously. Yuri scoffs behind him. 

Today is sort of a slow day, and Yuuri braces himself for the inevitable moment Celestino will ask him to go outside and 'work his magic,' as he likes to call it. Yuuri isn't sure what that means. He feels incredibly awkward standing out there, trying to talk to people and convince them to come inside. But for whatever reason, people seem to like him.

He has fun scribbling on the blackboard, at least. He and Phichit like to come up with ridiculous names for specialty drinks, usually following some equally ridiculous weekly theme. Yuri often tells them that this is stupid, but he's quick to snatch up the chalk whenever they run out of ideas.

It had been Yuri who had boldly declared this week's theme to be Greek mythology, probably because he has an exam coming up and can't remember any of it. And so Yuuri had decided to name today's drink 'Eros.' He pointedly ignores Yuri when he asks him why.

He looks up halfway through restocking some pastries and freezes, nearly dropping an armful of scones.

_Him._

He enters like something from a dream -- a well-built and silvery-fringed figment of his imagination, and if there were scholars who weren't aware that deities descended dressed in tight jeans and rolled up sleeves, Yuuri's ready to start publishing articles. He tries not to drop his desserts again as the man lifts his sunglasses, leaving them perched on his head as he looks around the shop.

Bright blue eyes find his, and Yuuri actually does drop his scones now.

He scrambles to clean up as Yuri takes the man's order, trying to look literally anywhere else. The man speaks, and the sound of his voice makes Yuuri so weak that he nearly drops _himself_ this time.

"Eros?" He says it lightly, letting it roll off his tongue, and Yuuri has to grab onto the counter for dear life. This man's voice is so... _unfair_.

"It's extra dark," Yuri says dully, sounding as if he wants him to hurry up and leave despite not having even received his drink. Or paid. Or placed his order.

"Sounds perfect," the man says softly, and Yuuri can swear he feels his eyes on him.

"Name?" Yuri asks as he swipes his card.

"Viktor."

Yuuri's head snaps towards him, mouth hanging open stupidly.

_Viktor._

Yuuri shivers.

Then he jumps, because Yuri turns to fling the cup at him. He catches it and clings to it desperately, brushing his thumb over the drying black marker.

'Viktor.'

He tries to make him his drink as quickly as he can, still sensing his gaze. No, it must be his imagination. There's no way he could be looking at him so intently. Why would he? He's chiseled marble, an artist's muse. And Yuuri is... just Yuuri. Nothing special. He feels his cheeks burning as he finally turns, taking a deep breath before calling out his name.

"Viktor?"

It's stupid, really. He's the only customer in the shop at the moment. No need to call out for him. But he had to. He had to taste his name on his lips, and it's something as deep and rich as the drink he pushes towards him. His hands tremble hard, and the cup tips, the lid not quite shut all the way. Yuuri sees his life flash before his eyes as liquid fire sloshes down onto Viktor's hand. He freezes, pale and beginning to sweat.

"O-oh, God, I'm _so_ sorry, I --"

Viktor only grins, pressing the lid down fully and taking up his drink. Their eyes lock, and Yuuri feels like he's drowning again.

"Didn't feel a thing," Viktor says with a wink.

_God._

Yuuri watches him go, dumbfounded and awestruck. The door shuts with the airy tinkle of bells, and the sound brings Yuuri back to his senses. What little he still has left, anyway.

Yuri leans against the counter, scowling at him. "What the hell was that?"

Yuuri groans loudly, burying his face in his hands.

"He's so _dreamy!_ "

Yuri makes a retching sound and makes him take out the trash.

*

Viktor did, in fact, feel a thing. He felt many things. He had felt a mixture of relief and panic when he'd walked in and spotted the mystery barista -- _Yuuri._ His heart had stopped when their eyes had met, and Viktor had felt fear. Something thrilling. He'd felt anxious as he ordered, watching Yuuri carefully do everything within his power to avoid looking at him. Why? Maybe he wasn't interested. Could it be? No, impossible.

He'd felt sick as he'd waited for Yuuri to make him his drink. The anticipation had made him ill. Turn around, he had thought frantically at Yuuri's back, turn around and look at me, _please_.

When he had finally heard his name on Yuuri's lips, it had taken all of his strength not to collapse in the middle of the shop. A name like his has no business being in a mouth like _that._ That soft and warm voice, so inviting, the one that had first pulled him in. And it had spoken his name so sweetly. So timidly?

Viktor had felt himself growing giddy, maybe even hysterical, when their eyes met again. Yuuri's face had been alarmingly red, and it had taken Viktor by surprise. But no, the man was just shy, it couldn't have been anything more than that. Those flushed cheeks and soft trembling lips hadn't been for him. But they had made him feel hot nonetheless, a scalding heat that he soon had realized was actually his hand on fire. It hurt like hell, but he had somehow managed to pull off something suave, and he'd left feeling strangely satisfied.

The only thing he's feeling right now, however, is annoyed, because Christophe won't leave him the hell alone. Telling his roommate about the gorgeous barista he may or may not have fallen madly in love with had been a huge mistake.

"If you're going to keep leaving all these goddamned cups around the house, you better take me to go see him. I need to approve before I can forgive you."

Not that he really has a choice. Chris would just follow him there anyway. Inevitable, really.

He braces himself as he enters today, praying that Yuuri is working. He'd wasted at least two trips here this week to find that his coffee angel had been no where to be found. 

Today, he's lucky. Sort of.

Yuuri is there. His smiling coworker, Phichit, is also there, and his mischievous grin widens as he spots him. Viktor swears he can _hear_ Christophe's grin in return from behind him.

This isn't going to end well.

"Good morning!" Phichit chirps as Yuuri turns away hastily. Viktor watches him flee to the backroom, his heart aching after him. How are they supposed to plan their wedding if he keeps running away? Will he leave him waiting at the altar forever?

"Morning," Chris nearly sings, sliding his elbows onto the counter and winking. Phichit flushes slightly, but his smile doesn't falter. He turns it on Viktor now, and it brightens impossibly.

"What'll it be today, sir?"

Yuuri chooses that moment to return, although very reluctantly and in a bad attempt at stealth, and Viktor can't look away.

"Yuuri," he says absently, then freezes, nearly biting his tongue, because Yuuri looks up at him in shock, and Chris lets out a loud snort beside him. Phichit looks as polite as ever.

"Hot or iced, sir?"

"N-no, I meant, uh -- Eros! That one. The one Yuuri made for me. It's, u-um. It was very good."

He's stuttering like an idiot, and Yuuri's face looks as red as his own feels. He only takes his eyes off of him when Phichit speaks again. 

"I'm sorry, but we're no longer serving that drink special. Today's drink --"

"It's okay," Yuuri says quickly, hurrying over and snatching up a cup, "I'll make it. Just for you." His cheeks flush brighter, and he refuses to meet Viktor's gaze as he scribbles his name onto the cup and rushes to make his drink. Viktor stares, amazed and hopeful. 

Christophe and Phichit make casual and somewhat flirtatious conversation, and Viktor stares off into the void, trying not to scream. He's done a great job making an enormous ass of himself. What is he even doing here? He's been entertaining fantasies of him and his coffee angel, but hasn't even asked for his number. How the hell does he ask him out?

"Viktor?"

Viktor's jerked from his daydreaming, and his hand is nearly around the offered cup when he realizes that Yuuri hasn't withdrawn his own. His skin is soft and warm, and Viktor feels his own start to tingle. 

Their eyes meet, and Yuuri seems transfixed. Mesmerized. He still hasn't let go of the cup. He seems a bit reluctant to, in fact.

Viktor leans forward slightly, lowering his voice just for his ears only.

"We can share, if you'd like."

Yuuri nearly chokes on his gasp as he pulls away, his face in flames, and he's sputtering something that's suddenly lost among the sound of bells and boots as a group of customers tromps in, filling the small shop with an overwhelming and almost invasive buzz.

Christophe cheerfully links arms with him, pulling him out of the shop and blowing the two busy baristas a grand kiss as they leave.

The two of them trudge back to their apartment, and Viktor tunes Christophe out, frowning down at his cup. It seems so much colder without Yuuri's fingers wrapped around it, and the chilly air has little to do with it. 

Yuuri's fingers. His touch, his skin, imprinted into cheap plastic. Viktor brushes a thumb across his name, written in sprawling and messy black marker. He freezes. This is more than just the six letter word he's used to seeing, marking it as his.

Numbers. _A_ number. 

_A phone number._

He screams, and Christophe nearly trips over his own ass in surprise.

*

He just _did_ that.

He stares out the door, right at the spot where he'd last seen Viktor. Walking away. Holding his cup of coffee.

The cup Yuuri had written his number on.

"I just did that," he says faintly, and the customer he'd just served gives him a strange look before leaving. Yuuri doesn't even notice.

"Did what? Your job? Great work, Yuuri! Maybe you really will get a raise --"

"I gave him my number," Yuuri says, his voice cracking as he whirls to face Phichit. " _I gave him my number!_ "

"Oh!" Phichit looks absolutely delighted. "That's great!"

"It's not," Yuuri says, panicking.

"It's not," Phichit corrects himself, "it's terrible, it's the worst. I can't believe you, Yuu -- No, I'm _kidding_ , Yuuri, please! It's alright!"

Yuuri's face is firmly planted into the counter, and the wood does a good job at muffling his groaning. He can't believe himself, either.

"What if he doesn't call me?" He pauses, and his head snaps up, his eyes wide with pure fear. "Phichit... what if he _does_ call me?"

"You answer," Phichit says gently, moving around him to help the next customer. "It'll be okay, Yuuri! Hey, go take your break. You look like you're gonna pass out."

I wish, Yuuri thinks miserably, making his way back to the small break room. He collapses onto a chair, his head immediately falling flat onto the table. He groans again. What a stupid think to do, giving a Literal God his number, as if he'd actually want it. What would someone like Viktor even see in him? He hadn't been flirting with him, that's for sure. Just teasing. Yuuri is used to people teasing him. Lying. There's no way anyone who had ever claimed to like him had been telling the truth. And so Yuuri had rejected them all before they could reject him. 

It made him feel lonely. But lonely is safe, he tells himself. Yes, he's safe.

Except he isn't, because his phone vibrates, and when he sees who's texting him, he screams and throws it across the room. He scrambles for it right away, nearly dropping it twice before finally bringing it up to his trembling vision.

It's an unknown number.

_Hi!_

Yuuri stares, slack-jawed.

_It's Viktor. Sorry._

Yuuri continues to stare.

_Thanks for the number, by the way._

What the hell is this guy doing, sending three texts in a row? Yuuri gapes at his screen, but no more messages come. He slowly starts to tap out a response.

_Hi. Sorry. I hope it wasn't weird._

Stupid, why would he say that? Why is he apologizing?

 _It's not weird... unless you want it to be ;)_  

Yuuri nearly chokes, in utter disbelief at the words dancing in his suddenly swimming sight. He can't see straight. Is he reading this right?

He starts and stops typing several times before realizing that Viktor can see him doing so. He freezes when he sees him typing back.

_Sorry. That was weird._

Yuuri spends the rest of his break staring vacantly at his phone. He doesn't respond. Not even when he crawls into bed that night, slipping off into fitful silver-tinged dreams.

*

Yuuri hasn't answered his text, but that doesn't stop him from boldly marching into his little coffee shop the next day. There's a barista behind the counter that Viktor has never seen before. She smiles brightly at him as he approaches.

"Hello! How can I help you?"

"Is Yuuri working today?" He hopes he isn't coming across as rude, but he's slowly losing his mind. The barista -- Yuuko, according to her name tag -- smiles again, nodding, and Viktor's heart soars.

"He's with the manager right now. He's about to go outside, though."

"Thanks," Viktor says quickly, hurrying back out. He pauses just outside the door, leaning back against the wall with what he hopes is casual poise. He probably looks like a tool. But he's an attractive tool, and he catches the eyes of many in the crowd before him. He ignores them, because they aren't Yuuri.

Relax, he tells himself. Deep breaths. He's in the middle of one of those breaths when his dream barista steps out the door, and all the air rushes out of him at once as their eyes meet.

Yuuri freezes immediately, the small smile on his face fading into nothing. Viktor silently wills it to come back. He wants Yuuri's smile. He wants Yuuri's trembling hands, and he watches them curiously as they struggle to write something out on the blackboard. 

"What's that?" Viktor asks him over the sound of frantically screeching chalk. Yuuri blushes harder, a feat so impressive that Viktor has to struggle not to compliment him.

"New drink," Yuuri mumbles, brushing his hands on his apron and stepping away. Viktor can finally read the board now, and his eyebrows rise in amusement.

"Aphrodite?"

"It's a theme," Yuuri says quickly, looking a little embarrassed. "It was. Um. Phichit's idea. He's the other --"

"I remember him, yeah," Viktor says a bit wryly, recalling that mischievous smile. He has a feeling he knows why Phichit had suggested this name for their new drink. Something about this makes him suddenly feel strangely religious, and he says a small prayer to the Almighty Phichit for this blessing.

"So," he starts, and something in his tone must be obvious, because Yuuri flushes brightly as his attention snaps back to him, "it must be a love drink, then?"

The look on Yuuri's face is worth every bad thing that's ever happened to Viktor in his entire life, and he's about to keep going because he's most definitely on a roll. But Yuuri speaks up unexpectedly, throwing him off completely. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is. Does that mean you want one?" Yuuri looks astounded at his own words, and Viktor isn't sure if he himself is trying not to laugh or trying not to faint. Is Yuuri trying to _flirt_? With _him_?

"Only if you're the one making it," Viktor says with an outrageous wink. He quickly sends out another prayer as Yuuri stares at him blankly. 

By some miracle of the goddess herself, Yuuri graces him with a smile, and Viktor suddenly feels like he's floating among the clouds, high above in the distant and lofty heavens, the busy sidewalk melting away into nothingness beneath his winged feet. There's nobody and nothing here but the two of them now. Just him and his angel. Just him and eyes like the swirling depths of the finest coffee in the city. Just him and a voice as warm and inviting as it had been the moment they'd met.

"Sure. We can share, if you'd like."


End file.
